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Full text of "TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston"

who assumed that everyone knew who he was. It sel-
dom occurred to him that many things in this world
need prefatory explanation. And on this occasion he
apparently took it for granted that the word Blarnett
automatically informed me that he had seen me out
hunting, had heard that I was very keen to come out
again, that the hounds were meeting about Tour miles
away to-morrow, that he had come to offer me a
mount on one of his horses, and that he would call for
me at the Barracks as punctual as the sun. The word
Blarnett was, in fact, a key which unlocked for me
the door into the County Limerick hunting world.
All I had to do was to follow Mr. Blarnelt, and Jie
camaraderie of the chase made the rest of it as easy as
falling off a log, or falling off one of Mr. Blarnett's
horses (though these seldom "put a foot wrong"5,
which was just as well for their owner, who rode by
balance and appeared to remain on the top of his
horse through the agency of a continuous miracle,
being a remarkably good bad rider).

He departed, having communicated all that was
necessary, and nothing else. His final words were
"Mrs. O'Donnell hopes you'll take tea with her after
hunting." I said I should be delighted. "A grand
woman, Mrs. O'Donnell," he remarked, and toddled
away, leaving me to find out for myself who she was
and where he lived. No doubt he unconsciously as-
sumed that I knew. And somehow he made one take
it all as a matter of course.

Returning to the ante-room I told Kegworthy how
"the old boy3' had turned out to be a trump card;
"And now look here," I added, "I'd already got a
hireling for to-morrow, and you've jolly well got to
ride it."

My suggestion seemed to cause him momentary

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